Secret Avengers: Darkhawk
by blindsniper33
Summary: After watching his father accept bribes from criminals, Christopher Powell discovers an alien artifact left over from the Battle of New York. Using his newfound powers as Darkhawk, Chris tries to right his father's wrongs. These actions won't fly under S.H.I.E.L.D's radar for long, however.
1. Dawn of the Darkhawk

**A/N: Despite the super edgy names some of these characters have, they aren't OCs. Also, this is set in early 2015.**

* * *

Secret Avengers: Darkhawk

Chapter 1 - Dawn of the Darkhawk

How could he do this? He was a police officer, he spoke all about being a better person. Constantly preaching about truth, justice, and the American way. Chris Powell took a swig of whiskey he stole from his dad's private stash. He gritted his teeth against the burning liquid. Chris hated the taste of alcohol, but he needed to forget what he saw. His father, the model police officer, the paragon of New York City... taking bribes.

Chris shook his head as he thought about the situation. Every detail was seared into his brain. His dad was his hero, the man he always looked up to. Chris sank back into the leather seat of his old beater of a car. He was in an empty parking lot near the Queensboro bridge, the chilling midnight air invaded through the gaps in the car's doors and windows. The glow from the Manhattan skyline pierced through the night's sky. The city's lights were struggling thanks to the damage from the Incident a few years back, but the Big Apple's resolve still shone through.

He rubbed his fingers through his long brown hair, Chris had to just get away from the entire situation. The anger, disappointment, fear, and sorrow all swelled within him. Adding liquor to the equation did not help things in the least bit. Deep down Chris knew sitting alone in this lot slugging stolen alcohol wasn't the right way to handle the situation. Hell, he was only seventeen, he could get arrested. At this point, though, he didn't know what else to do. He clumsily retrieved his cellphone and turned it on, the bright screen illuminated the entirety of his car's interior.

His phone showed no new notifications; no texts, no calls, not even an email. Hours ago in his panic, Chris blew up his friends' phones, hoping to get somebody to calm him down. Obviously that didn't work. He slammed his fists against the wheel in response and accidentally set off the horn, "God dammit!" Was all he could muster before he lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips again. Chris chugged as much as he could, tears welling in his eyes from the searing pain in his throat. He threw the bottle down and grimaced from the taste. He regretted not picking up any chasers.

After battling with the aftertaste, a faint red light caught his attention. Chris was parked outside of an old storage facility, one that was bombed out during the Invasion. Damage Control had only cleared out the large and dangerous pieces of debris from the building. They mainly put their restoration efforts in residential areas and Downtown. The red light flickered from inside one of the dilapidated storage units, shining from inside a hole in the wall facing him. It almost seemed to realize he was looking at it as the red glow intensified.

If Chris was sober, it would have registered that this was an extremely bad idea. Almost like it was completely out of his control, he shut his car off and grabbed his Letterman jacket before opening the door. He slipped the jacket on before stumbling out of the car. Chris kept his head on a swivel as he made his way across the parking lot, last thing he needed right now was someone seeing him. The red luster beckoned for him to discover whatever it was, this was more than just human curiosity. It felt almost like he was under a spell.

He squeezed his way through a hole in the fence at the edge of the parking lot. Chris looked back one last time to check if there were any spectators. Nope, the only thing staring back was his decrepit car. With a relieved sigh, he picked up a brisk jog to the storage unit that held the red light. Upon reaching his destination, he took care getting his footing on the rubble leading to the damaged wall. His vision blurred and every movement felt like it was in slow motion. Chris eventually lost his balance and crashed down upon the rubble.

A sharp pain radiated from his shoulder as it made contact with the mangled brick and mortar, "Ugh, crap..." Chris clutched his shoulder and laid down on the pile of debris for a moment. His persistence showed as he brought himself back up to his feet and made it to the top of the pile. He grabbed the edge of the hole for support and peeked inside the storage unit. He scanned through the grimy room before laying eyes on the source of the luminescence.

It was a gem, one unlike he ever saw. Despite the obvious red color, it was in the shape of a marquise diamond and looked almost as large as his fist! His eyes lit up and his jaw dropped as he examined the precious stone. Chris quickly made his way towards the gem and knelt down beside it, "What the Hell?" He blurted out before reaching for the stone. It sent a quick bolt of red energy at the approaching hand causing him to recoil back. He quickly checked his hand for any injury before staring back at the stone in shock.

Before he could utter another word, the stone leapt towards him and attached itself to his chest, "Oh God! Oh God!" Chris frantically began tugging at the diamond to try and remove it. A metallic, navy colored, armor began ejecting out of the gem and enveloped the teenager. He could no longer feel the cold night's air and his vision adopted a red tint.

"What is happening!?" Chris shouted to himself as he hobbled around the storage unit, his feet clanked against the concrete floor, "Someone help! Anyone!"

Chris patted his chest around the diamond and found his shirt and Letterman were replaced by this new metallic armor. His body went into full panic mode as he quickly glanced around the room for any explanation.

 _"Raptor armor version 2.0.1 'Darkhawk' online. Razor Interface online,"_ A voice boomed from inside Chris' head.

He jumped from fright at the sudden noise and looked around again, "What? Who said that? Hello!?" He grabbed at his face but was only greeted by the same metallic armor that covered the rest of his body. His mind instantly set on one thing: he needed to see what he had become, "I need a mirror!" He nervously called out to himself.

 _"No reflective materials in the immediate area."_

Chris sprang up again upon hearing the voice, "Is this a joke!? Who are you? Come out!" He gave a moment for any response, "Please...?"

 _"Code-named: Razor. This voice is a manifestation of the artificial intelligence built into this suit."_

Chris almost laughed with relief, he wasn't crazy, "Uh, suit?"

 _"You are inhabiting a Raptor Combat Suit, code-named 'Darkhawk.'"_

"Combat suit? W-what like Iron Man?"

 _"Unable to answer user's question. Insufficient knowledge on 'Iron Man.'"_

Chris shook the suit's response off and quickly climbed out of the storage unit. It was like his intoxication disappeared as he expertly made his way through the rubble pile and back outside. He made a break for his car, unleashing a full sprint. Something didn't feel right, however. He was going way faster than he ever ran before, and it barely took any effort. He covered a long distance in an astonishingly short amount of time. Before he even realized it, he was back at the fence in front of the parking lot. He was going way too fast to stop.

"Christ!" He yelped before raising his arms to cover his face from the impact. A sharp shearing sound invaded his ears as he tore through the chain link fence. He tumbled towards the ground from the impact but recovered with inhuman perfection and speed. Chris couldn't even form the proper words as he continued to dash towards his car, "No! No! No!" He stuttered before his body slammed into the driver's side door, ripping off the side view mirror and leaving a large dent in the car. He shook his head at the damage he caused, "Come on..."

The side view mirror dangling from the car was highlighted a bright yellow against his red vision, _"Mirror,"_ The suit stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris stood up and lifted the mirror in both nervousness and excitement to see what he currently looked like, "Holy shi-" His body was covered head to toe in the navy blue armor that stuck to tightly against his skin. Bulky silver pauldrons encased his shoulders, clashing against the darkness of the main suit. A silver collar covered his neck and he had two large silver gauntlets on his forearms. His eyes were covered by a glowing red visor with a silver accent that covered his mouth and ended in a point on his forehead. His visor was the same shade as the red diamond embedded in his chest. The final deviance from the navy armor was a silver belt that hugged his waist.

Before another thought could escape his mind, he and his entire surroundings were suddenly washed over with flashing red and blue lights, "Police! Step away from the vehicle!" A man ordered Chris from behind.

Following his instincts he turned around and saw a police cruiser with both doors open and two officers pointing their weapons at him, "Don't shoot!" Chris raised both his arms over his head. This caused a set of metal wings to extend from his arms, freaking him out even more.

Luckily the officers didn't open fire, "Hey, wait are you that Falcon guy? The one that rolls with Cap?" The officer stepped out from behind his door and approached Chris, "Ah man, you get new threads or something?"

As he was walking towards Chris the other officer kept his pistol raised at him, causing it to be highlighted yellow in his vision, _"Hostile threat detected, deploying countermeasures."_

Chris turned his head to the side and started whispering, "Deploying wha-" Before he could finish a bright beam of energy erupted from the crystal in his chest, ripping through the police cruiser.

He was speechless and watched in horror as the officers scrambled back behind the doors of their cruiser, "Light him up!" One of them yelled out and the pair of pistols started firing at Chris.

 _"Hostile engagement detected, combat mode engaged,"_ Chris' body turned towards one of the officers and his arms extended out automatically.

"No! No combat mode!" Chris yelled in protest as the police continued shooting at him. Some of their shots hit their mark, but Chris barely flinched at the bullets, "Just get me out of here!"

 _"Complying,"_ Without further warning the suit lifted itself into the air and flew away from the assaulting officers. Chris could do nothing more but scream in terror as he witnessed his ascent into the night's sky. He flailed about in shock trying to reach for anything that would stabilize him, _"Operator's movements obstructing flight path, overriding."_

After the Interface finished speaking, Chris' body snapped to position with his arms in front of his his head and his legs trailing behind, "I think I'm gonna barf..." He felt an acidic pain rise through his chest.

 _"Vomiting while in the Darkhawk suit would be... problematic,"_ The suit's helmet retracted allowing Chris to feel the breeze hit his face as he flew above Queens.

He took in the view for a moment, stunned by its beauty. Then, almost instantly, he emptied his stomach contents in a violent session of heaving. Chris cringed as he witnessed his puke fall to the streets below. He mustered a, "Crap," Before falling unconscious, his newly acquired suit still flying across the city.


	2. Forgot to Remember to Forget

Secret Avengers: Darkhawk

Chapter 2 - Forgot to Remember to Forget

His eyes snapped open in response to the blaring tone that emitted from his alarm clock. Chris groggily rolled over and pressed the 'dismiss' button on top of the device. He sat up in bed and scanned his room. Clothes strewn around, empty bottles of water lazily thrown about, and his walls decorated in posters of sports icons. Chris recollected the events of the night before; his father's crookedness, the underage drinking, the magical suit. He rubbed his head almost expecting to be feeling a serious hangover after downing a fifth of whiskey, however he never felt better.

Chris sighed in gleeful relief. Of course it had all been a dream. How could he think he found an alien space suit? Seriously?

He wasted no time and hopped out of bed, he only had half an hour to get to school. Midtown High didn't easily forgive tardiness, after all. Chris lifted an arm and gave a quick whiff from his armpit, the stench lingered with him for a second before he shrugged it off. Thank God for spray deodorant. He slipped on some worn jeans and wandered into his personal bathroom. Chris peered into his mirror and was delighted that his shaggy brown hair wasn't suffering from a case of bedhead. He rubbed the slight stubble on his face wondering if he could get a quick shave in... Nah, he looked better like this anyway. He loaded his toothbrush and shoved it in his mouth.

"Christopher, you're going to be late! We need to have a talk!" He heard his mother scream from downstairs. Chris' heart always sank when he heard that, it always meant he screwed something up.

He spit out the toothpaste and shuffled back into his room. Chris picked up a shirt from the ground and scouted out the rest of the items he needed for the day. He threw on his Letterman, slid on his shoes, grabbed his backpack and phone, then was out the door. As soon as he stepped out of his room, the succulent aroma of bacon and eggs wafted over him. He rushed down the wooden stairs both excited for breakfast and terrified of whatever lecture his parents were going to throw at him.

As Chris strolled into the kitchen he witnessed his parents and younger brother, Jon, sitting down to eat with an extra plate set for himself. His brother wore his green JROTC uniform, something Midtown required a couple times a week, 'Powell' hung proudly above his right breast pocket. Chris pulled his chair out and cautiously sat down, his parents gave worried glances to each other then to Chris, "Honey, I don't know how to tell you this..." His mother started, making Chris sink back into the kitchen chair.

His dad sighed, "Someone stole your car, Chris," He finished his wife's sentence, "They trashed it up near the bridge."

Chris' stomach dropped instantly, "W-what?" Last night wasn't a dream, it all really did happen. His journey up to the old storage place, his compulsive drinking, that freaking magic gem... His dad was a corrupt cop. He didn't know what else to say, everything felt like it was coming down around him.

His father sighed, "I know you put in a lot of work to make that ol' hunk-a-junk start running again. I'm really sorry," Chris just stared at his father in response. He couldn't begin to attempt to form a coherent sentence right now. A slight grin grew on his dad's face as he leaned in towards his son, "Now, me and your mother talked and we can't cart you to school or work every day so... We wanted to help you get your motorcycle license!" He revealed to the boy, but his grin slowly faded, "Did you hear what I said, son?"

Chris momentarily snapped out of his trance, "I- yeah, thanks."

His dad fell back into his seat, "Huh, I thought you'd be a little more excited."

"Give him some time, Mike, he just found out his car got stolen," Chris' mom spoke from the other side of the kitchen table, "Now hurry up and eat, your father is taking you to school."

Chris looked down at his breakfast, but any trace of his appetite had vanished. He was simply too disgusted to eat in light of these revelations, "Actually, I'm not hungry. We can leave now," He quickly stood up from the table. The other three looked up at him, baffled.

"What? No, just eat," His mom ordered with concern.

Chris gave a nervous chuckle, "No, I, uh, got weigh-ins today," He launched whatever excuse he could think of on the fly.

His father furrowed a brow, "Weigh-ins? Thought those were in the fall."

Chris shrugged, "Uh, yeah, but Coach Wilson is trying this new thing with the baseball team. You know how he is."

"Yeah, he's a madman," His dad shook his head, "Well, Jon, you ready?"

Jon shook his head, "Yes, sir," Chris cringed internally at his brother's response. JROTC was a good program for the kid but it turned him into a massive dork.

Mike scoffed in response and looked at his wife, "You hear that honey, 'sir.'"

The trio made their way out of the Powell's modest townhouse, the bitter cold air assaulted them. As they packed into the family sedan, Chris couldn't stop thinking about the events from last night. He wrestled with what was real and what wasn't. There was no way he could've found that metal suit, it was impossible. Then again, in a world full of giant green monsters, super soldiers from World War Two, and aliens, maybe anything really was possible.

They pulled further away from their house and Chris' dad finally broke the silence, "So, do you know anything at all that could help us find out who took your car?" He turned to Chris who was in the passenger seat.

Chris shrank back, "Uh, no I have no idea."

Mike nodded, "I figured. Look, I didn't want to say this in front of your mother, but whoever took your car is causing a storm at the precinct. They managed to wreck one of our squad cars and the guys on scene couldn't even describe what they saw," He turned to Chris again, "If you know anything, it could really help."

"Yeah, I wish I could give you something, but..." Chris hated lying to his parents, but in light of what happened last night he had no choice.

Mike focused on the road, there was no way his son knew what happened. He was a pretty upstanding kid, he wouldn't be involved in something this serious, "Alright, well just think about what you did yesterday, you know, try and retrace your steps. If you remember anything that could give us a clue, let me know."

Chris silently nodded and turned to look out the window.

* * *

A cold dusk breeze blew across Chris' face as he roamed through Queens, the musky scent of industrialization lingered in his nose. His destination was Sub Haven, his favorite sandwich shop in all of New York City. His friends didn't like it though, they all say they use too much bread. Whatever, he likes bread anyway. Chris stopped for a moment at a crosswalk, anxiously waiting for the pedestrian signal to allow him to cross. He didn't mind the walk, plus at this time of day the streets are crowded with people returning from work. Sub Haven was always worth it, too.

He looked across the street for a split second just to take in the view of the familiar neighborhood. Laundromats, grocery stores, and all sorts of other small time businesses littered the area. Chris had regrettably seen Queens change after the Incident. It was still his home, but... different, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. People were on edge and it only got worse when Captain America exposed that the government was infiltrated by literal Nazis. Then that terrorist kidnapped President Ellis, and it felt like the whole world was unraveling around him. It felt like a miracle that the Powell family made it through everything. Jon, his mom, his dad-

Wait a second, his dad?

Chris observed his father on the sidewalk adjacent to him. Normally, he'd go up and greet him, but something was off. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but he said he had work today. Chris continued to keep an eye on his dad until he entered the garage of a small taxi cab service further down the street. Chris wasted no time and ran across the street, earning him a couple horn honks from oncoming traffic. He kept up the pace, weaving in between people crowding the sidewalk until he reached the garage. He knelt down behind the broken down vehicles and cautiously approached the door to the garage's office. Chris peeked inside, but no one was there, and a sign on the door displayed that the business was closed.

This wasn't like his dad at all, the entire situation was way too suspicious. Chris' mind instantly snapped to an affair; his father was cheating. He pulled on the door but found it to be locked. Chris grunted in anger before glancing to his left. One of the sectional garage doors was slightly ajar, maybe enough for him to slip under and catch his father in the act. He stepped slowly over to the garage door, trying to keep the gravel under his feet as quiet as possible. He laid himself down next to the gap and tried to slide through. Unfortunately, he didn't fit causing him to click his tongue in disappointment.

Chris brought his face up to the opening, the gravel lightly pressing against his cheek. He got a good look inside, but again no one was present. There were a couple cars on auto lifts near the ceiling and toolboxes strewn about the garage. Chris scanned over the various posters and signs on the walls, looking for anything out of the ordinary. A door on the far side of the room swung open and three men entered, one of them being his father. They were laughing warmly and walked in to the middle of the garage. Chris figured these were just some poker buddies or something and instantly felt relieved.

Out of pure curiosity, he continued to eavesdrop on the three men, "So, are these the cars?" His dad spoke up, his voice echoing around the room. Chris could hear him perfectly.

"Yeah, with another two coming in tomorrow," One of the other men spoke up. Maybe his dad was looking to get another car or something? The other two were dressed in business suits, they looked extremely professional. Oddly enough, one of them was also wearing a small black drawstring bag.

Another man entered the garage, he moved with such confidence and displayed an aura of power. Chris got a good look at him, he looked no older than forty with slick jet black hair and a perfectly trimmed goatee. Like the two other men, he was dressed in an elegant suit, "Mike," He greeted Chris' dad, "How's the family?"

Mike shook the man's hand, "Phillipe. They're great, doing really well."

The other man, Phillipe, smiled, "That's wonderful, how are Jon and Christopher?"

"Growing up... real fast," Mike responded.

Phillipe shook his head and put a hand on one of the toolboxes, "That's an unfortunate reality of being a parent, huh? You blink and your kids are off, out and about in the world."

"Couldn't agree more."

Phillipe clapped his hands together and looked at each of the men, "But enough gloom, let's get down to business shall we?"

Mike nodded in approval, "Sure, so when's this going down?"

"Two days from now, Friday," Phillipe replied, getting a good look at the cars on the auto jacks, "Most likely ten o'clock, you know how Fisk is. So punctual."

Mike perked up, "The deal's with Fisk?" The way his dad said that made it seem like this guy was a big deal, "I figured he would've got his people to cover this whole thing."

"Ah, they are," Phillipe answered Mike's speculation, "For the most part, on his side at least," He approached Mike, putting a hand on his shoulder, "We still need you on this one. Make sure there's no prying eyes."

Mike cocked his head slightly, "Yeah, I can do that. Where's it happening?"

"The usual place."

Mike glanced around the room, "Alright ten on Friday, you'll be good to go," He reaffirmed, "No one's gonna be coming down that way."

Phillipe smiled ear to ear, "It's always great to hear that, Mike. Smith, give this man his money," He motioned to the man with the black bag.

He handed it to Mike who promptly opened it and smiled, "Who said crime doesn't pay, am I right?"

Phillipe chuckled softly, "We're glad to have officers like you on our side," He paced around the garage, continuing to examine the vehicles, "But crime? Don't think of it as that, we're simple businessmen."

"Uh, yeah, that's why I have no problem looking after your interests," Mike recoiled slightly.

Phillipe stood erect, arms behind his back, "In that bag is the usual price, five thousand. I threw in a little extra as a 'thank you.'"

Mike's smile only grew, "That's very gracious."

"That's what they call me."

Bribery. It was a freaking bribe. Chris at this point couldn't move, his limbs felt almost paralyzed. So many thoughts ran through his mind, he could barely even process this information. He didn't want to hear another word, he had to get out. He had to go anywhere other than here. Chris didn't care about noise at this point and quickly broke out into a sprint to reach the sidewalk again. He startled a couple bystanders as he exploded out of the garage's lot. He had to tell someone, anyone.

He whipped out his phone, thinking about calling the police on his own father, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, "Holy Christ..." Chris shoved the phone back into his pocket, the reality of the situation getting to him.

 _"Hey, Chris?"_

* * *

"Chris, buddy," Mike lightly shook Chris on the shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. Chris jumped slightly and looked over at his dad. He had been so deep in thought he hadn't noticed they arrived at Midtown, "You alright?"

Chris shook his head, "Yeah, just kinda spaced out," He gave a fake chortle, "I'll, uh, see you later."

"Yup, see you, bud," Mike replied and with that Chris left the car with his brother.

Other students making their daily commutes surrounded them, Chris recognized most of his peers. Playing almost every sport at school really had its benefits, even if he mainly surrounded himself with some pretty overstuffed egos. He's been told that high school would be the best four years of his life, and to some extent he believed them. Chris felt like he owned Midtown, he was on the top of the social food chain. Jon, on the other hand... Well to put it bluntly, Jon was a complete nerd. The kid definitely had a future, though; he put one hundred and ten percent in everything he did. He was proud of his brother, but honestly you couldn't even tell they were related.

Chris and Jon made their way past the football field and up the school's old concrete steps to the campus. The sharp winter air ferociously bit at the two boys.

"Chris!" He turned to the source of whoever called out his name. A faint grin enveloped his face as he saw the perpetrator; Allegra Bazin. Well, she preferred to be called Allie, citing that she's not 'some over the counter drug.' Chris and Allie held the title of their class' power couple. Constantly on-again, off-again with right now being a weird in-between state, "You never answered any of my calls!" She continued to yell as she made her way over to Chris and Jon, her blonde hair bouncing with each step.

Chris mentally slapped himself, he forgot to even check if any of his friends responded to the barrage of texts he sent at them, "Oh, yeah, sorry about that," He responded rubbing the back of his neck. Jon rolled his eyes and continued through the front door of the school. He was all too familiar with Chris and Allie's 'relationship.'

"Sorry? That's it?" She gave him a light punch to the arm, "I was worried about you, Christopher Powell!"

Chris patted her on the head. She was adorably short; something he liked to tease her about constantly, "What do you want from me, I woke up late."

Allie scoffed, "I'd imagine, you housed a whole freakin' fifth."

"I, uh, told you about that?" He shrank back as they finally entered Midtown.

"Yeah, me and about ten other people," The pair stopped at Allie's locker which was almost immediately next to the school's main entrance.

Chris groaned, the ramifications of last night setting upon him, "Do you know who else?" He leaned up against the locker next to hers.

Allie threw her backpack inside the locker and retrieved a physics textbook along with various other supplies, "Well, Andy for one," Chris grimaced at the name. Andrew Maguire was a typical burnout. He was sometimes hard to get along with, but they knew they could count on each other when it really mattered, "And Hector, I think," Hector Cervantez was one of the few people Chris could trust with his life. They've been best friends since as far as he could remember, they did nearly everything together. He was a pretty great guy, despite the fact he terrorized the younger grades.

"It's gonna be a rough one today," Chris muttered as Allie closed her locker.

She spun towards Chris with her arms wrapped around her books, "Wanna walk together?" Chris nodded to the question he's heard a million times before, usually before they had gotten back together. They made their way through the crowded halls towards their next stop; Chris' locker, "Soooo, are you okay? You didn't say what was up."

"I'm good, I just freaked out about something that wasn't that big a deal," Chris dismissed her before opening his locker.

Allie furrowed a brow, "Must of been a big enough deal for you to binge drink like that. Which, might I add, is not a healthy thing to do."

Chris sighed, "Yeah, but it felt like a good idea at the time," He unzipped his backpack to get his books but was instead greeted by an intense red glow. It was that gem from last night, for some reason it was in his bag. He gave an instinctual, "Oh God!" Before scrambling to close his backpack so no one would see the diamond.

Allie took a step closer to him, "Whoa what's wrong, Chris?"

Chris slammed his locker shut and stood in front of it, "Nothing!" His response shocked her even more, "Uh, nothing... I have to, um, go take a piss. I'll meet you in homeroom," Chris shuffled off to the nearest bathroom, almost bumping into a few students.

Allie stood in the middle of the hall, confused by the sudden outburst, "What the Hell is going on with you, Christopher Powell?" She said to herself as she watched him go down the hallway.


End file.
